


Excalibur

by RaisonDetre



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Harry! Jensen, Jensen is a southern gentleman, Kingsmen: The Secret Service AU, M/M, Older!Jensen, bless, but 'tag' along bc this is going to br gr8, eggsy! Jared, i am trash, more tags to come, no regrets, oh yeah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:12:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisonDetre/pseuds/RaisonDetre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared Padalecki thrived in the city, adapted pretty damn quick considering he had been uprooted from his late father's farm to the bad side of Houston. At nineteen, his life is at a halt. Every day he barely misses his step father's fist, kisses his little sister goodbye while he tucks her in safe from her dad's view, and earns money by pick-pocketing.<br/>Until he met a southern gentleman named Jensen Ackles with a lethal secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PREFACE

**Author's Note:**

> "Momma said to be anything you want to be, unless you can be Kingsman trash. Then be Kingsman trash."

_2001_

Jared Padalecki stood with his chubby hands stuck to his firetruck, keeping his entire attention on the toy instead of his sobbing mother. She didn't appreciate it when he tried to comfort her, if anything, his wide and confused hazel eyes- innocently trying to help anyway a five year old could- forced even more wails out of her. 

The man speaking to her looked around Jared's father age, spoke in the same accent- the heavy Texan kind, the way Jared's daddy said true cowboys spoke. 

Every time the five year old would pull his attention to the two, his mother would simply press her face harder into her hands and the stranger walked back and forth before asking to sit- which seemed strange to young Jared- and stood when his mother wouldn't say anything other than a few strangled sobs. It became confusing to Jared, and honestly- he simply wanted his daddy back home. 

Which, he hadn't been home for a while- and when he did, it'd be in short visits until he disappeared once more. 

Maybe that's why his momma wouldn't crying. She just missed daddy, s'all. 

When his mother let out a screech that finally made Jared jump from surprise, she took something from the man's hand and threw it viciously onto the ground with something that sounded like a growl escaping her throat. 

"I don't want your favors, I want my husband!" She screamed, and suddenly his momma- in her favorite baby pink dress, the one with pockets, sometimes she'd stuff his toy cars inside the folds of soft fabric when they were running across town- ran out of the room with an attitude and tantrum that would've gotten Jared sat in the corner and a red behind. 

Jared watched as the thing she threw laid three feet from him, it looked helpless. In fact, Jared couldn't find a reason as to why she would've 'caused such a scene' about something as tiny and helpless as that. Maybe it had cooties that weren't daddy's. 

He almost reached for it when his fingers were beat by freckled hands scooping it up softly. 

"Oh," the man's deep voice hit the air and Jared tilted his head up completely to catch a glimpse of the monster of a blonde man. "I apologize, I didn't see you there," he continued, and... why was he talking to Jared- toddlers were meant to keep quiet at the dinner table, use please and thank you in every sentence to anyone that wasn't his or her momma or daddy, but mostly- be ignored by adults unless first acknowledged.

"S'okay, mister," Jared watched the man with obvious wonder, firetruck long forgotten and his gaze stuck on the man's strong hands. More precisely, what he held in those hands. 

"What is your name?" The man asked, and Jared had half a mind to tell him he wasn't allowed to talk to strangers- but he reminded him of his dad, wore the same suits his daddy did, and really- his momma didn't let no one in that would hurt Jared. 

"Jared Tristan Padalecki," Jared didn't realize how childish he sounded, but this man happened to be the first soul he's seen for weeks other than his mother and himself. "But my momma calls me Jay." 

"Well, Jay, I'm Jensen," the man, Jensen, crouched down. Now, Jared could see the vibrant green of his eyes and the freckles that sprinkled all over his young face. He had the same look his daddy did, his grandma said it was the look a soldier. 

"You's a soldier, Mr. J'sen?" Jay asked, eyes wide in wonder as he leaned his chubby hands on the floor beneath him and scooted closer to the man. 

"Yes," Jensen spoke easily. "I am, like your father." 

"My daddy's pretty great, y'know. Momma says he's gon' away, but he always comes back, Mr. J'sen," Jared smiled at him, but it fell as soon as the man began to frown and his eyes shone in the way his momma's had the past three weeks. 

"He's comin' back, right, Mr. J'sen?" Jared's lip almost quivered while the man's eyes widened in surprise. His momma always told him he asked too many questions. 

"Jay," Jensen began but he seemed to stop himself short, biting his pink lips before rubbing his temples, obviously stressed. "Jay, I'm going to give you this medallion, see," and the item that Jared's mother had throne savagely laid perfectly in the middle of the man's palms. It looked strange, the same color as his mother's favorite pink dress, and trimmed in gold. In the middle, a 'K' on its side was cemented, all of it wrapped in a tiny golden circle of rope. 

"Why Mr. J'sen?" Jared asked, eyebrows hooked up as he tried to make sense of why he'd be gifted such a beautiful thing. 

"Because, when you find yourself in trouble, and I mean deep, deep trouble, just dial the number on the back, understand?" Jensen paused for Jared to nod his head, when he did, Jensen ruffled his hair and smiled gently. "When someone answers, and they will, tell them 'Oxfords not brogues', yes?"

Jared agreed with a serious pout and a tight nod. Jensen finally placed the medallion in his hands, Jensen's fingers dwarfing Jared's pink palm. He pressed the cool gold into his skin, as if to tell with his touch never to loose the tiny gold piece. 

"And I will answer, and I will help."

Jared listened to the man speak, agreeing with a smile, but his attention travelled to the medallion. He stuffed it in his front pocket, making a mental note to place it in his Texas shaped piggy bank. 

"Say, Mr. J'sen, what'sa Ox ferd? Thatta cow?" Jared asked, his wide eyes blinking up to where he expected the man. 

Instead, the front door feet away closed just as he finished his question.


	2. Cortese II

Jared stared at the cracking gray ceiling. Above him, a picture of some girl- that hot one... Gensomethingwitha'v' Cortese splayed herself over her girlfriend- the other hot chick with fucking knives for legs, Daniel or Danny or something. The article once attached to the shiny poster had said something about Cortese's genius brain and her awareness for the environment. Which made her all that much more kick ass. At twenty seven, Cortese's net-worth shot above nearly every source of old money in the world. 

The article mentioned at nineteen she dropped out of Harvard her freshman year and created her first approved prototype of a better, more pragmatic smartphone. Her technology stood far more advanced than any other phone on the market- she had surpassed the unsurpassed. 

And Jared, at nineteen, laid on his back with his baby sister tucked into his neck and his only free hand lazily searching through his blankets to grab his Cortese II, the second generation of her phone that had nine all together, but it still worked perfectly, and it even picked up the wifi connection from two apartments over. He stared at his wallpaper for a few seconds before he dialed in his password to unlock the device- just a picture of his sister giggling, even for a baby, in this house, cracking a smile was rare. 

"Sophia," Jared whispered softly, before he slowly reeled himself up and took the tiny baby along with him. "Time t'take a nap, yeah?" 

The child, hardly nine months old, made a gurgle of a noise before she blinked up at him with the same hazel eyes his mother and himself possessed. Thank God she didn't inherit anything noticeable from the monster outside the teenager's door- not the dead eyes of Dean or the streak of anger he held. Sophia happened to be a delightful little babe, she only cried when his mother forgot to feed her with milk mixed with formula Jared bought. 

He clutched the girl, cradling her like she was the only thing that mattered in this world. And, she happened to be just that. After Jared's ninth birthday, they moved to Houston in the upper middle class with her new boyfriend. Then their air condition broke and three days later, Jared's soon to be step dad was never seen again and the handyman that came to fix it was Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Or just Dean, for short. 

Jared remembered the jokes he threw at his mother- but as soon as he found that she didn't have the money to pay for any of the bills from the repayment, Dean became less funny and his humor turned down right dirty in the worst way. Soon, Jared found himself moving into Dean's apartment as his mother became a reluctant girlfriend before she actually developed fucking feelings for the asshole. 

He picked up his sister, and with a deep breath, the teenager opened his previously locked door- the chain had been broken three times by Dean, but still, it held more comfort than actual protection. 

In the tiny living room of the apartment, his mother sat on the couch smoking a cigarette while Dean's hands were busy with a game of poker. At Jared's entrance, Dean glanced up and for the hell of it, barked at his mother to get him a beer. 

"Why don't you fuckin' do it yourself?" Jared asked, his attention on his sister but still- who the hell did Dean think he was? 

"No, Hannah, you ain't got to do it, since this little fucker can do it for himself," Dean places his cards out on the worn and cracking coffee table, thick brows shooting up and giving him the ugliest expression on his unshaven face. 

Jared placed his sister into her crib- a ratty thing, but Jared only had so much money, and it happened to be the best he could find in his price range. He turned to glance up at Dean, who smiled with his yellow teeth stained from chain smoking, the sneer almost dared him to back talk. 

"You want a fuckin' beer?" Jared asked, malice behind his words as he kissed his sister on her forehead and wished there was some place in this world to simply hide himself and his tiny angel away in. 

"Your heard me, boy," Dean bellowed with the same voice that had become the soundtrack to every sleepless night filled with split lips and bruised ribs and broken bones. 

"Have your fuckin' beer then," and Jared imagined himself bringing the bottle down on his stepfather's forehead, watch the brown glass stick out of his head's thin skin and pucker with blood. Instead, he slammed it on the table, hand shaking from unfiltered anger, and turned on his heels. It proved extremely easy to ignore Dean's outrage at the sudden loud bang, but he didn't stop running down his apartment's complex until his feet stepped on ground level concrete. 

Safe. For now. 

Half of him felt guilty to leave Sophia in that hell hole, but the other part of him knew most of Dean's anger only showed its ugly head with Jared's presence. 

He tucked up the collar of his horrid jumper- he was fully aware that some thought his plaid Adidas jacket seemed unreasonably ugly- they were right, but he found it deep in a thrift shop a few blocks over and found thirty bucks in the pocket when Sophia really, really needed the doctor's check up at the clinic down the street. 

Jared could be a bit over the top, with his unconscious obsession with anything Adidas and how he walked with as much swagger as his long, lean limbs could allow him, but regardless, he still caught eyes. Some of them came with good intentions and appreciated attention, others came with angry boyfriends and low punches given to the kidneys in the back alleys. 

The city would eat him alive if he gave it the chance. 

He threaded through the streets of Houston, careful to space himself from the alleys he's woken up bloody in, and ducking behind strangers if store owners caught a glimpse of them through their dirty windows. Overtime, Jared became this town's least favorite. Where ever he may be, something bad inevitably followed. 

Honestly, Jared was lucky that he could still step foot in the bar two blocks down from the apartment. But the store owner had a soft spot for him ever since he disarmed a gunman a few weeks ago. Which he didn't like to go into. All of the skills he learned in his short time in the marines, before he dropped out at his mother's word, had been tucked into the back of his mind for safe keeping. 

Jared liked being underestimated, and when that asshole had waved his gun into his face while asking him if he'd rather die or give him all his money- well, that lowlife believed Jared to be some nameless, scared kid- no different from the masses. 

He turned into the bar, The Roadhouse. The brick building creaked and shook like it would fall apart at every swing of the front door; sometimes, Jared swore the thick wooden bars that held it up trembled. 

"What held y'up?" The easy, cool tone of a tiny blonde female spoke from above Jared, where he crumpled himself into the darkest corner of the bar in attempt to keep himself from being noticed by anyone unwelcome. 

"Dean bein' an ass," Jared grinned a real smile for the first time today, aside for the few gusts of laughter his darling sister had pushed out of him earlier. "Duh," he finished just as smoothly. 

He spread himself out on the booth's seat, long and slender arms hanging off the ridges of the leather seat top. He pursed his lips and nodded his head, ignoring the shaggy brunette hair catching in his eyes, as he motioned for Jo to sit.

As a bartender, technically she shouldn't be taking breaks. But as the daughter of the owner, Ellen, she was basically the boss on her mother's days off. She easily slid inside the booth, kicking up her old boots, thrifted around the same time Jared had found his jacket, and tucked her rag and tips into her pockets. 

"Where's Ash?" Jared asked, pocketing his Cortese II into his jacket to keep him from ignoring his friend for technology. 

"Dunno, his shift started at eleven, ended about ten minutes ago," Jo whistled lowly as she rubbed the temples of her forehead. "Didn't show, but... y'know him-" 

"I know him," the teenager agreed, but he still gritted his teeth and clinched his fists with giddy adrenaline. "But I also know Mark," Jared finished, letting his eyes glance over every individual in the bar. Mark thought he ran these parts, along with Dean and any other grimy lowlife that would sink to their levels. Jared had been at the sharp end of his cheap knife far too many times in high school to consider their relationship only ever resulted in fights and waking up in back alleys with no wallet. 

At the end of his words, Ash suddenly pushed through the front doors of The Roadhouse. He wore old Wranglers and boots, because that had been the way his momma raised him. With his auburn hair still styled in a mullet, he looked as if he frequented a 90s rodeo club instead of chasing a dead end job at The Roadhouse. 

"Ash, where the hell were y-" Jo's words died on her lips. He stepped towards them, and Jared saw it. Half of his face seemed to be swollen, red and bright and angry. Blood still trailed over his split lips from his nose, which had morphed into a blue-purple glob, no doubt evidence of a thorough beating. 

Jared stood up within a second's notice, real anger finally boiling inside of him as he side stepped Ash to find Mark- who did it, because really, who the fuck else would've done this to a kid as innocent and nice as Ash? 

"Jay, don't do it-" Ash began weakly, before the teenager shot his friend a glare and continued past him to the exit and entrance. 

Before he could grab the door knob, Mark suddenly appeared beside him. 

Jared's nose scrunched because Mark reeked in the way bad men like him do. Like old copper and cheap fucks. 

"Hey, Padalecki," Mark smiled, cracking his fists in front of the younger man to show the evidence that he had done the damage to Ash's face. Red painted over his hands, and well over into his white long-sleeved shirt. "Where y'going?" He asks, curves his lips up in the way a snake does- except it's not as nearly as frightening and he's nowhere near as intelligent as a snake. 

"You fucking bully," Jared's voice cracks- and he hates that, because he's not scared of Mark, but his body is jumping with so much adrenaline that he can't help his creaky words. All he sees is red, but he keeps himself as calm and collected as he possibly can- hopes he can. 

"I'm sorry," Mark leans down, and if it wasn't for the two lackeys behind him, Jared's fist would've wiped the ugly smirk off of his smug face. "Didn't hear you, bitch." 

"Good, cause I didn't say nothing," Jared manages to reply through gritted teeth and a clenching jaw, his hazel eyes are still on the dead gaze of Mark, but his hands travel elsewhere as he tries to push through the neighborhood asswipe to the door. 

After a few seconds of struggling, Mark moves his shoulder and allows a sliver of a passage to Jared.

Jared only allows himself a glance backwards to nod to Ash and Jo, both of them staring wide-eyed with disbelief at the amount of bravery their young friend had shown. No one stands up to Mark, unless you're Jared Padalecki. Then you stand up to anyone and everyone until you're waking up in an alley caked in dried blood. 

They hurry towards him, Ash jumping when Mark feigned a step towards the fleeing group. 

"Are you fuckin' crazy, Jay?!" Jo screams, her hands grab for the box of cigarettes in her apron's pocket and leans onto the brick wall of The Roadhouse, shaking her head with more astonishment than disapproval. Ash agrees with a 'mhmm' while cradling his nose softly, prodding and checking for anything broken or out of place, regardless of swelling. 

"Only a little," Jared turns from where he walked from his friends, a loose swagger in his step- which would look ridiculous if he wasn't Jared Padalecki. With sweet dimples resembling thumbprints on either side of his pink lips, he grinned deviously. 

"What did'ya do?" Ash asked, curiosity embedded in his watery eyes before Jared had the chance to reply. 

He slipped his hands from his Adidas jacket's pocket, jangling the keys to Mark's secondhand truck, rigged up nearly four feet off the ground and enough stereo equipment to make it worth more than a piece of shit. 

"Picked it off of the asshole," he laughed, tipping his head up to stare at the starry night before turning to his friends. "Y'all coming?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback is much appreciated. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, reviews are welcome.


End file.
